I Know Why The Rain Falls On The Good And Bad

When someone would say, "Hope you learnt from your experience." I would always say, "Yes. I learnt not to trust anyone," in my mind. That's bitterness speaking. That's not my lesson to learn. There's a lesson void of the bitterness of failed expectations, void of the guilt in our hearts; the lessons in our mess. Once an adventure seeker, my days are now full of responsibility. Gone are the days of hoping through site; testing what pays or not. The challenges haven't changed, but a new mentality has grown over time. Atleast, through my experience. The glimpse of yesterday still show like a screen. First, it was a moment of pressing my phone. Next, an arrest, a long-time debt, and a bullet hole from my boss' chest. Journey through the pages of "I Know Why the Rain Falls on the Good and Bad," as I tell the story.

INVITATION

Hello, my name is Stephen Onovai. I would like you to read about a major experience I had the last year that almost cost my life. I know these stories will seem unbelievable. I look back over my life, and I'm like," Stephen, you mean you went this far." Either you will insult me or throw a stone at me. These can be the best learning lessons-just fuck ups, but they are still lessons. That's how I think of my life; all my wins are lessons, and all my failures are lessons that will one day become wins. I decided to write this book in the hope that someone would read it and feel like, "If he can come out of this mess, I know I can." I invite you to read it.

PROLOGUE

I sat among them in the darkness. We were awake when we heard a loud blast. We didn't pay attention until the second shot. The cell guards vanished at once. Soon, I saw smoke spreading all around. The others confirmed it was tear gas. It was my first time witnessing such a scene. I tried to hold my breath, but I couldn't. The substance was both peppery and hot; it made my eyes and nose gush water. My heart pounded fast in my chest; I imagined a dead end for me. I joined the others and screamed: "Open...open... Cell guard, we dey diaaaa...”

We kicked the gate several times—hoping it would open. The cell gate opposite us opened. Seeing this, we immediately got the motivation to try harder. My voice started fainting. Soon I could only cough. I said to myself: "Na, so I take to die?" I burst into tears immediately. All efforts were becoming vain when out of nowhere, a police officer walked inside the gas and opened the gate. I couldn't see clearly as I rushed out to the back opening to search for air with the others.

"Ouch!" exclaimed those that hit somewhere—maybe the iron gate—in the course of running (searching for air). I saw tears and blood on their body. My eyes were just filled with tears (but I wasn't hurt). The SP apologized for the incident and explained that it was one of their ammunitions that got expired—or it had fallen. I didn't get that part because I was still dazed and lost in thoughts of what had just happened. Still, the greater joy came not only from being liberated from police carelessness but from my own carelessness.

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